


Nameless

by AlienSeas



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Also on Tumblr, F/M, I love the Valkyrie, loki is kind of a dick but what else is new, not quite the same movie timeline, realm traveling, slowburn, slowburn fluff and maybe a bit of smut lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienSeas/pseuds/AlienSeas
Summary: All you wanted was a name and a family, and instead, you got the blood of the Valkyrie on your hands, a (maddeningly attractive) god that will not let you forget your place, and a severe lack of sleep.When are you going to actually start getting answers?





	Nameless

You wonder what it would feel like to be in battle.  
To be in the midst of the sweat, blood, and searing metal of swords as they clashed together. You imagined what it would feel like to battle among the Valkyrie, the ones who's wounds you mend as a medic. You wonder what it would feel like, to earn your true name in battle, as all the Valkyrie had done before.  
"Hello? You have started daydreaming again, girlie." You get snapped out of your musings, back to staring at the woman whose arm you're currently bandaging.  
"Apologies, Herja." You mutter, hurriedly finishing up the bandage, and she just chuckles.  
"It's perfectly alright. What were you dreaming of now? Of sleep? I know that's what I'm dreaming of." She stands when you finish, flexing her arm to test your bandage, nodding in approval.  
"Well, about that. I was actually dreaming of...battle again." Herja snapped her eyes to yours, and you remember the meaning of her name.  
Devastate. Seeing the ferocity in her eyes, you completely understood why. Sighing as she looked into your eyes as well, she rubbed her temples and turned away from you, collecting her armor.  
"We talked of this. You cannot enter battle with us, you're much too weak and frail. I don't even trust you can lift my sword, much less wield it into battle."  
"I am very much able to wield your sword! I am able to wear the armor and I am able to fight." You argue, and she gives off a short bark of a laugh.  
"Fighting wooden swords with the children does not count as being able to fight. In fact, if memory serves me right, the children were able to overtake you."  
"….well it's not fair when it's 4 against 1." You mutter, cleaning off your work area as you hear Skögul enter, stooping low to enter the doorway, sighing as she collapses into the chair.  
"Skögul, you agree with me, correct? She cannot enter battle with us." Herja waved her hand toward you, putting on her armor with the other, as you get your salves and start cleaning off Sköguls wounds.  
"Of course she cannot. Where did you even get the idea?" Skögul laughs and you aggressively prod as you start bandaging, and she winces.  
"Just because I'm shorter than you all are-"  
"You are about the size of my daughter and she is 9 years of age."  
"-a _lot_ shorter than you all are, doesn't mean that I wouldn't be able to fight. Maybe I would just need some more training than most, and I can find my own armor or someone to make it, or-"  
"We said no. You would be taken immediately out there, or worse, killed. You do not know what battle is really like. For us, it is a glory. To be covered in blood, in sweat, with your closest allies and family, fighting together. For you, it would be a death sentence. You are much better and safer here, tending to our wounds. That is close enough to the battlefield. " Herja has put on her armor, and you can see the dents in the gold, each one marking a glorious fight.  
You can also see yourself, and seeing your face reflected in the royal crest of Odin Allfather put you over the top with rage.  
"At least you have found a family. All I wish for is to be part of it." You hear your voice shake, and rush for the opening of the medical tent, running out into the open training field.  
Female warriors surround you as they go their own ways, and you can recognize each immediately as you walk briskly toward your chambers.  
Geirdriful, sharpening the blade of her spear. Gunnr, sparring with Göll. Randgrid is cleaning her shield from the earlier battle.  
Each one has their own place, a position.  
And a position brings a name.  
Ignoring the calls of "girlie" by the warriors, which only cement the fact that you will never recieve a name, you throw yourself through the side door to the castle, now running through the hall down to your room.  
Your eyes misted over by tears, you don't even register someone coming up in front of you, and you run into them at full speed, falling back and landing on your ass.  
"What in the hell are you doing, running down the hallway like that?" The man above you says, not having even moved at all, and you barely squeak out an apology before getting up and running down the hall, going into your chamber before the man can see your face.  
Because even through your tears, you recognized the green leather and pale white hands of that man.  
You just ran face-first into Loki, Prince of Asgard, and then fell right on your ass.  
\-----  
A few hours later, there's a knock on the door. You say nothing, but they still enter.  
"You didn't come to dinner." A soft voice behind you says, and you don't reply, sitting on your small cot and staring out of the window.  
"Girl-"  
"Don't call me that."  
"What else am I supposed to call you?"  
You say nothing in reply.  
"Ah. That's the problem, isn't it."  
You sense them sit next to you, but you already know who they are.  
Alvitr. The wise, strange old woman, was the unspoken leader of the Valkyrie. While not any more strong than the rest, she seemed to be able to sense a problem before it happened and create the perfect solution, , rendering her able to lead the clan.  
You wonder why she didn't sense that with you.  
"Herja told me that you want to join the Valkyrie. However, you don't seem the fighting type. One time, I saw you bandage up a bird with a broken wing."  
"So? Lots of warriors would do that."  
"They probably wouldn't cry while doing it and try to find a spell to wish it good flight."  
Silence.  
"I guess…its the only way I can find my name. If I have am a warrior, I will have my name given to me." You whisper, and she sighs.  
"Just because you do not remember your name, does not mean that it's lost. It is in you somewhere."  
"How? All of you found me after that battle, I was only a screaming infant. You don't even know where I came from. How can my name be in me." Your eyes blur up again, and she puts a strong hand on your shoulder, about to say something, then stops.  
"What is it?" You look at her as she looks at your door, then she suddenly runs for it.  
"Stay here!" She calls over her shoulder, and for a moment you comply.  
Then, you hear the sound of shouts from the Valkyrie dining hall, the clatter of armor as it's put on.  
That's when you ran, straight down the hallway that led out to the fields. However, upon opening info the door outside, you were hit with the stench of the undead, and you coughed, barely able to open your eyes, as if the smell itself was weighing down on you.  
Around you you heard groans and shouts, both from the Valkyrie and also from whatever army had come from what seemed like nowhere.  
As you were stumbling through, blinded and deafened by the screams around you, someone gripped your arm, pulling you aside into a tent.  
Coughing as you opened your eyes, you saw Alvitr, looking at you angrily.  
"I told you to stay inside, girl. You are only mortal, and this..this is not where you belong. Go back inside."  
"No. The only way you can keep me inside from this battle is if you chain me yourself. Otherwise, I will find any armor that fits me, a sword, and go and find my name in death."  
Alvitr looks at you gravely, then sighs, pulling a sword from above your head (you hadn't even realized you were in the armory tent) and hands it to you.  
"Death will find you soon, girl. I will see you there." And with that, she raises her sword and runs back into the son of combat with a battle cry.  
Staring at the sword in your hands, you see yourself reflected back. Seeing your face in the metal, you notice how small you truly are. Your hands dwarfed by this sword, you test lifting it, and you're discouraged by how heavy it is, and you rethink going into the battle.  
Then you hear a scream.  
A pained scream.  
Your swords weight means nothing now, as you run out of the tent and towards the din of conflict.


End file.
